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The first time, it was 3AM, the day after the retirement of Madam Lucy. Enigma sat hunched in the dim glow of a flickering desk lamp, buried in reports that sprawled across the mess of his desk. His room smelled of rusted circuits, expired ink, and burnt toast. His eyes drooped, lids heavy.
Then, the lights suddenly flared on, blindingly.
“Gah- what the hell?!” Enigma flinched like a deer in headlight, spinning around with a sharp glare, “Turn that off! I’m going blind in here!”
Standing in the doorway was none other than Ulrich, golden magnetic fluid pulsing along his frame, his ferrofluid vibrated angrily, “Adler, it’s 3AM. Even I know to rest after twenty-four straight hours of unrest. Especially after The Storm,” Ulrich said, voice clipped.
He walked over and slammed a mug of hot coffee on the desk, nearly wetting a stack of hastily written calculations, “I assume nothing I say will get through that thick skull of yours, so here. Drink up. I’d rather not have you pass out in the middle of the day.”
Without waiting for a reply, Ulrich turned on his heel and stormed out, the door slamming behind him.
Enigma stared after him, bewildered. The room was silent again, save for the faint buzzing of the ceiling light. Slowly, he turned to the mug, definitely no poison, right? Still suspicious, he sniffed it then took a cautious sip.
It was annoyingly good, warm but also slightly sweet, the kind of taste that wrapped around your insides and reminded you you were just a human.
Enigma scowled into the cup, “Of course it would be good, stupid Awakened arcanist.”
The second time, it was his birthday. Enigma stepped out of his office, mind already three tasks ahead, when he came face to face with a suspiciously enthusiastic Ulrich — at least, based on the constant vibration of his ferrofluid.
He was holding a cake, with candles burning brightly that could potentially lead to a fire hazard, and frankly, wasn’t the most unusual thing to happen around the lab given the nature of the researchers here. (I’m looking at you Regulus)
Enigma narrowed his eyes, “What is this? I don’t need trivial things like this. What a waste of department funds.”
Ulrich’s ferrofluid pulsed in exasperation, he stepped forward and carefully placed the cake into Enigma’s hands.
“I don’t have time for this behaviour,” Ulrich said, his tone clipped, “Today is your birthday. According to Madam Lucy, birthdays are important to both humans and arcanists, I’m simply performing the necessary action to boost employee morale.”
And with that, he turned and left, leaving Enigma alone in the hallway with the cake. He stared at it for a long second before realising the candle is almost burning the cake and quickly blew it off. He scowled, sighed and went back inside to put the cake down.
Later that night, he cut himself a slice. The cake is dry as hell. The vanilla tasted slightly expired, and the frosting was — why is it sour? Enigma stared at it like it had personally offended him.
“Do these Awakened arcanists even know how to bake?” he muttered, poking the sponge with the tip of his fork like it might retaliate.
Then he paused.
Realisation settled in, Ulrich had made the cake himself.
For morale, apparently. He took another bite begrudgingly.
The third time, Enigma was done with the day, or so he thought. His mind buzzed constantly and he tiredly write some ineligible annotations down on Ulrich’s stupid research notes. He thought it was stupid.
The third time, Enigma was done with the day, or so he thought. His mind buzzed like a broken generator as he scrawled down a few indecipherable annotations across Ulrich’s latest research notes. It was dense and impractical — in other word — stupid.
He was very well aware of the heat gathering at his forehead, his temples pulsing. His eyes were drooping fast, like gravity had turned into something personal. Still, he slapped his cheeks a few times and forced himself up.
Out in the hallway, the lights felt like knives piercing his eyes. Fellow researchers greeted him as usual, some already packing up to go home. He caught a glimpse of Regulus sneaking off somewhere with the exaggerated manner of someone who wanted to be caught, but his vision blurred too much to care.
Then-
“Watch where you’re going, Adler!”
The voice was familiar: sharp and slightly offended by the concept of clumsiness. Enigma looked down to see the very fishbowl-headed menace himself — great, just great.
“Ulrich,” he said curtly.
He was sure Ulrich is ready to throw in some insults here and there, and Enigma himself is ready to bite back with equal venom. The ferrofluid around Ulrich pulsed once, shifted into a quick, startled exclamation mark, his fingers pointing accusingly, “Are you sick?! Why are you still here?!”
Enigma blinked, no one else had noticed.
“I’m perfectly fine,” he rasped, then cleared his throat and tried again, “Just a bit off. Some minor fatigue. I’m entirely capable of functioning and be here.”
“Your core temperature is elevating by 1.4 degrees,” Ulrich snapped, “Respiration rate is inconsistent. You do need to be aware that you had nearly walked into a mop bucket, Adler.”
“That’s no basis for- ”, Enigma tried protesting to no avail.
“This is a direct violation of rules, you are to be quarantined immediately,” Ulrich barked, “This is a professional research facility. We cannot afford to lose any personnel to a common flu.”
“I don’t have the flu- ”, he was again interrupted.
Ulrich stepped forward, “Until you are medically cleared, your access to the labs is revoked. And if you resist, I will sedate you and dragged you to the infirmary myself.”
Enigma blinked, incredulously, “You wouldn’t dare.”
Ulrich’s hand shifted, from the pockets of his suit, a fully-formed syringe emerged, gleaming ominously under the hallway lights, “Try me.”
*3 hours after*
Enigma woke up startled, momentarily blinded by the aggressive overhead lights, “Was?! Wo bin ich?!” he barked in confusion.
He blinked blearily at the surroundings, the faint beeping of monitorsmand the ever-so-faint scent of antiseptic confirmed his fear. He groaned, dragging a hand across his face, “So that mf fishbowl did, in fact, drag me here.”
His fingers brushed the sore spot on his arm where the sedative had been injected, his lips curled into a scowl, “Hah. Violation of rules, my ass.”
The fourth time, Enigma was drunk, drowned in litres of alcohol after hitting a dead end in his recent research (it was both his and Ulrich, but no way he’d admit it). He lay sprawled on the dorm floor, unmoving, breath heavy and sour. The doorbell rang, someone jabbing the button repeatedly and urgently.
With a groan, Enigma stumbled up and slammed the door open, a scowl plaster on his face, “Was?! Es ist 5 Uhr morgens!”
There stood Ulrich, equally irritated, his ferrofluid pulsing into spikes, “I called you because of an emergency, I found a breakthrough in our research, and — why do you reek of alcohol?!”
Maybe it was the wine, or — it was the way Ulrich stressed our that made Enigma’s stomach flipped.
Enigma raked a hand through his hair in exasperation, “Geez, man. You should take your own advice and rest.”
Ulrich’s ferrofluid form finally settled, his features reconfiguring into calm precision, “I can work for up to 320 hours without rest,” he stated plainly, “Because I’m not human.”
“Okay, enough of that—what’s this breakthrough you’re rambling about?” Enigma snapped, cutting him off.
Ulrich straightened slightly. “It concerns unstable elements in the tranquilizer umbrella. I’ve discovered it can trigger minor time fractures, which is—”
Enigma didn’t hear a word after that, “YOU SAID WHAT?!”
He lunged forward, grabbing the collar of his fishbowl-headed colleague. “What do you mean, time fracture?!”
Ulrich didn’t flinch. “I said what I said. And I sincerely hope no one fell through it from the future.”
(Someone did, in fact, fall through.)
Ulrich swayed slightly, “The problem is we can’t fix this problem with your state, you’re drunk off your ass.”
“Maybe don’t call me at 5am, then,” Enigma shot back, slurring in his voice.
“Maybe you two shouldn’t be yelling in the hallway. People are trying to sleep!!”
Both of them turned toward Simone, who stood at her door in pyjamas, arms crossed and eyes blazed, clearly moments away from smashing both their heads into the wall. She looked exactly like Enigma’s sister used to when she got mad.
He isn’t taking any chances. Without hesitation, Enigma grabbed Ulrich metal arm and yanked him into the dorm, slamming the door shut and locking it behind them.
“Congratulations,” Enigma muttered, exhaling, “you’ve just triggered the wrath of A-researcher-who-hasn’t-slept-in-3-days. If we’re not dead by sunrise, it’ll be a miracle.”
Ulrich’s ferrofluid shimmered, shifting into the shape of a question mark, “……Do humans become dangerously irrational from lack of sleep?”
“Yes,” Enigma replied flatly, “Now tell me more about the time fracture before someone falls out of a rift wearing medieval armour.”
Ulrich folded his arms, and the fluid across his form pulsed into three slow, blinking dots, “You’re drunk as hell, Adler. I suggest you rest. Don’t want you falling from the 6th floor again.”
That last sentence was a jab, but Enigma paid no mind, he was surprise at the softness in Awakened’s tone. His eyes then narrowed, “What’s this? Getting soft on me now?”
Ulrich didn’t respond immediately. For a moment, his ferrofluid rippled subtly.
“An illogical interpretation,” he finally said harshly, though there were signs of hesitation in his voice, “We value our humanitarian ethics in Laplace.”
Enigma tilted his head, his hand lazily dragging through his tangled hair, the corner of his mouth twitching into a smirk, “You’re worried about me.”
Ulrich shifted his frame slightly, calculating his words, “You’re a valuable research partner,” he finally said, “If we lose you as a researcher, it disrupts efficiency.”
Enigma chuckled dryly, “Efficiency.”
They stood there in uncomfortable silence for a whopping twenty-five seconds. Then Ulrich turned around and left.
The sun finally rolled around. Enigma hadn’t slept, not even a blink. His head was still swimming in last night’s wine. And of course there was an 8AM meeting.
Then, a ding. He glanced at his computer screen and froze the second he saw the sender.
“Don’t bother coming to the meeting. I won’t tolerate a drunkard in the room.”
Enigma stared at it, anyone else would’ve taken it as an insult. But he exhaled slowly, barking into laughters.
Ulrich was saving his ass.
The fifth time, Enigma walked into the common space and nearly dropped his coffee mug—Ulrich’s coffee mug, of course, which he had definitely stolen.
The reason? A mountain of paper taking up half the table. Regulus perched at one end like a smug gremlin, and Ulrich dead centre, buried in notes.
“Weiß?! It’s break time!” Enigma snapped, “Isn’t it illegal to bring work-related stuff in here?!”
His eyes darted to Regulus, narrowing. “And since when do you, brat, work?!”
Regulus puffed out her cheeks proudly. “It’s not paperwork! This great pirate is simply helping Ulrich with his German course! I’ve picked up plenty of Deutsch during my travels.”
Enigma stared at them, utterly bewildered. Ulrich just nodded in quiet confirmation.
“…Deustch? Is this a joke?” Enigma rubbed his temple. “You do realise you don’t have to talk to the politicians, right? We just research and submit our findings to the glorious, all-seeing Foundation. No charm required.”
Ulrich didn’t even look up. His ferrofluid twitched, spikes rising slightly with irritation,“Completely irrelevant,” he muttered. “I’m learning German because I need to understand what’s going on in your head.”
The room went still. Regulus let out a slow, delighted gasp, “Ohhh. He likes you.”
Enigma choked on his coffee. He coughed twice then quickly turned away, pretending to examine the wall like it suddenly held the secrets to the Storm. His cheeks were definitely warmer now.
Across the table, Ulrich angrily reached over and swatted Regulus on the head. She yelped, “Ow!”
“What nonsense,” Ulrich said curtly, “This is strictly about team cohesion, Madam Lucy stated language learning is an approved method of building trust and cultural awareness. Also showing our researcher that management cares about them.”
Regulus rubbed her head with a pout, “Still hurt.”
Enigma, stood frozen in place, blinking at nothing,“What a good way to crush people’s hopes,” he thought bitterly.
He paused. Wait. Why was he bitter?
It’s not like he wanted Ulrich to say something else, to mean something more. To learn German not just because of Foundation protocols and cultural courtesy, but because…
Nope. Absolutely not.
He turned back around, wrapping his fingers around the coffee mug tightly, “Well, enjoy your... language time, I guess.”
He sounded annoyed, he was annoyed. Regulus narrowed her eyes knowingly while Ulrich didn’t even bother to look up from the workbook.
And Enigma promptly decided he needed a second cup of coffee.
He was exhausted, not just in body but in all the ways that mattered. He didn’t know how to deal with his feelings anymore. Perhaps, If Greta were still alive, she’d know what to do.
Dragging himself into the lounge room, Enigma barely registered his surroundings, until his eyes landed on the last person he wanted to see right now, Ulrich.
The man was lying on the couch with a book in hand, presumably resting after what he proudly claimed had been 320 consecutive hours of work.
Ulrich looked up, sounding more surprised than sarcastic, “President? What are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be in a meeting?”
Enigma ran a hand through his hair, not even bothering to hide the fatigue in his eyes, “I don’t feel like it.”
He didn’t know what possessed him to act so boldly, but the next moment he was moving toward the couch. Before Ulrich could react, Enigma plopped himself down beside him, then leaned in and wrapped both arms tightly around him.
Ulrich let out a startled yelp, “WHAT THE FUCK, ADLER?!”
Their position was awkward and ridiculous, Enigma curled against Ulrich’s much smaller frame, arms locked around his waist, head resting firmly on his chest like a cat.
Ulrich let out a long sigh, “I don’t know what you’re doing, Adler, but my chest is hardly an ideal resting surface. There are far more comfortable pillows elsewhere in the lounge.”
“Shut up,” Enigma muttered, voice muffled against the metal plating, which is, surprisingly soft. Did Ulrich put terrycloth over his chest? That bastard.
Ulrich stiffened, but didn’t argue back. After a beat, one gloved hand hesitantly rose and began to pat Enigma’s head. Gently and awkwardly, like he was comforting a child.
Enigma simply pressed in closer, snuggling tightly against Ulrich’s chest. Enigma’s breathing began to slow, his body going limp with exhaustion, arms still loosely wrapped around Ulrich’s waist.
He’d fallen asleep just like that.
Ulrich’s ferrofluid pulsed slowly, the Awakened staring down at the human, the man who cursed him on a near-weekly basis, who insulted his ways of working and kicked his lab equipment, now curled up like a stray cat in his warmth.
Ulrich wasn’t sure what had come over him. Maybe he’d have to consult Mesmer Jr. about it later. But for now, he set his book aside, reached for a nearby blanket and gently draped it over Enigma’s.